


A Nap By Any Other Name

by SigmaJump



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Disapproving Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marriage, Mentioned My Unit | Byleth, Post-Time Skip, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigmaJump/pseuds/SigmaJump
Summary: Returning from vacation, Linhardt's first morning back to work is interrupted by his office co-worker Caspar. Who takes this time to steal Linhardt's phone to ensure his social media profile is appropriately updated.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring, Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	A Nap By Any Other Name

It was a day much like any other day at Black Eagles Limited. The same overly cheerful security guard wished everybody a good morning as they passed on by to the elevators. The same crowded yet mercifully short elevator ride to offices full of meeting rooms and cubicles. The same company-supplied computer surrounded by the same piles of paperwork and research materials.

But what was different this time, Linhardt felt as he sat down at his desk, was the simple, golden ring on his left hand. He gave the closed lid of his laptop a quick brush with his right hand, while with his other hand’s thumb slowly spun the ring around his finger. He may have only been gone for a single, too-short week, but giving the computer a cursory dusting felt appropriate. As he raised the laptop cover, Linhardt let out a soft sigh, knowing that as wonderful as his time away had been, a huge backlog of work awaited him. A backlog that more than likely had not been properly attended to by whichever poor co-worker had been assigned to it. A backlog that most likely meant that there was little time for an afternoon nap. Or, he shuddered, possibly no nap at all.

_ So sleepy _ , Linhardt thought to himself. He let out a lengthy yawn, closing his ever tired eyes and stretching his arms above his head.  _ Why can’t I still be on vacation… _ He dragged his hand over to power on the computer, and rolled his head back while waiting for the system to boot up. A few short minutes later, the too-bright factory-default desktop wallpaper depicting Gronder Field showed that work was ready to begin for the day. Dragging the mouse to open his browser so that he could start filing through his emails, Linhardt resigned himself to working through the office chorus of ringing telephones, panicked project managers, and gossipy who-knows-what-they-actually-do-heres.

Until an eerie calm crept over the office floor, much like the wildlife in the jungle when a predator is lurking nearby.

“Hey! Linny! Welcome back, man,” a loud boom echoed, announcing the presence of one Caspar Bergliez. It was completely by coincidence— but a nice coincidence— that Linhardt’s childhood friend had landed a position as an office manager around the same time that Linhardt himself had started working there as a technical research associate.

The busy hum of the office resumed as the blue haired man shouted his way to Linhardt’s cubicle, coffee in one hand and a large morning danish in the other, giving a few quick morning how-do-you-dos here and there.

“Hello, Caspar,” Linhardt muttered in a more appropriate indoor tone once the human loudspeaker arrived at his cubicle. Caspar set his drink and what Linhardt assumed was his third breakfast down on the only space clear enough on Linhardt’s desk. “Did you have a good week here without me?” continued Linhardt, not terribly interested in any specific details. He continued to stare at his screen and clicked the icon for the email application, trying to mentally prepare himself for the incoming barrage.

“Oh, yeah. Well, Bern from IT, she took anything urgent, but then she started to get a little overwhelmed, you know how she is, so she hid in one of the meeting rooms for an hour, so then I asked Ferdie to look—” Caspar continued his monologue about how the previous week had been. A long monologue. A loud monologue. Drawn out to every exacting, apparently exciting detail. Completely oblivious to the fact that Linhardt was slowly being lost back to the realm of naptime.

“But enough about how the photocopier blew up on Hubert, you gotta tell me, man,” Caspar latched onto the back of Linhardt’s shoulders.

“Tell you  _ what _ exactly?”

“Don’t be shy,” Caspar laughed. “How was the honeymoon?!”

Oh, yes.  _ The honeymoon _ . The reason for Linhardt’s time away. The source of many long, relaxing naps cuddled next to a very smart, handsome, and most importantly  _ quiet _ professor from the local university.

Caspar spun Linhardt around in his chair, but kept his close range. “You didn’t even post any pics of you and Byl on FriendTome! Thea posted a ton from the reception, but don’t worry, she tagged you and—”

“You know I don’t use that site.”

“But  _ everyone _ does,” Caspar started, pulling out his phone. “Speaking of pics, you should see this cake Ashe baked for me the other day! He wanted to try some new decorating tech—”

“Yes, that’s nice, you can show me at lunch,” Linhardt interrupted, now almost eager to get back to work if it meant relative silence.

“But dude, after I went to all the work of making the account for you!” Caspar threw his hands up in an overly exasperated fashion, almost throwing his own phone up in the air with them.

Linhardt sighed, “You mean you stole my phone when you came over one day and signed me up. Against my wishes.”

“Not my fault your password is easy to guess,” Caspar grinned cheekily. “9-9-9-9. The least your thumb has to move, and the least number of presses you need. Hey, where is your phone now anyway? Can I borrow it for a second?”

Giving another long, drawn out sigh, Linhardt spun back towards his computer. He leaned down into his bag and pulled out his phone, passing it behind him to the not-getting-back-to-his-own-job bundle of energy and decibels. It was easier and quicker than trying to fight a battle he wouldn’t win.

_ FriendTome _ , Linhardt thought to himself. The big social networking site that everyone was using. Except himself, of course. After Caspar had forced an account on him two years ago, Linhardt had added a profile picture of the most recent stray cat photo that was on his camera roll. And also used that for his cover photo, even though FriendTome did a horrible job of cropping it. It was too much of a bother to find something more suitable.

And that was about all Linhardt had ever done with the site. He quickly found scrolling down the feed of everybody’s updates entirely too bothersome and, at the risk of sounding rude, uninteresting. And  _ that _ scrolling was just with the updates of Caspar and Ashe (who were ‘friended’ by Caspar for Linhardt when he had first made the account for him). If someone wanted Linhardt to know what was going on with their life, they could easily bring him to a local coffee shop and talk at him for as long as Linhardt could stay awake. Even so, every once in a while Caspar would grab the phone during a hang out and add another acquaintance or two for Linhardt.

“Done!”

Even though Linhardt couldn’t see him, he could just imagine the smug look of self-satisfaction that was on the other man’s face. The look that screams ‘I did something that you won’t like, but you let me get away with it because we’re besties!’

“So who did you add  _ this _ time,” Linhardt unenthusiastically asked, reaching to get his phone back. Instead he felt the sharp chin of a short man abusing a rare height advantage rest down upon the top of his head, with two arms coming down around his shoulders. Holding Linhardt’s phone, with his profile on FriendTome in full view:

_ Linhardt Eisner _

“I knew you wouldn’t update your name here yourself, so I’m doing it for you,” Caspar explained. “And I agree, that was a good decision on your end, considering, well, you know…”

The wedding had been a small ceremony. Just a handful of close friends, who also generally happened to be either Linhardt’s coworkers or other faculty members at Byleth’s university. Also notable for the lack of family members. This was easily, if sadly, explainable on Byleth’s end— both of his parents had passed away; his mother shortly after his birth, and his father just as Byleth had started teaching a couple of years ago. Linhardt’s parents on the other hand… the elder Hevrings were not exactly approving of the marriage.

* * *

“You— You’re getting  _ married _ ?!” his father spat out right after Linhardt had announced his engagement. “And to some random nobody after you’ve turned down so many proposals your mother and I have worked hard to set up for you?” Linhardt’s family was rather well-to-do. Very well-to-do. And with that, his parents a bit too old-school and traditional in their beliefs. After years of it seeming like Linhardt was never going to even enter the dating circle of his own volition, his mother and father began to try and set him up themselves. The fact that each girl happened to come from a well-to-do family of their own was  _ sheer coincidence _ . The family name— and just as importantly, the family business— must be carried on to the next generation.

“Yes, father,” Linhardt started.

“What does she even do? Does she come from a good family? She had better not be some gold-digging—”

“He’s a professor at the Garreg Mach Institute,” the interruption came.

“ _ What?! _ ” the exclamation came. This time from his mother. “A ma—… How am I ever to have grandchildren?”

“Some common  _ educator _ ?!,” came from his father with a self-absorbed sense of disdain.

Linhardt stood up firmly. He knew this would happen. His family would never accept him having a boyfriend, let alone a husband.  _ And even worse in their eyes _ , he spat out internally,  _ one not coming from money themselves _ . That he wasn’t some CEO, not a doctor, not a lawyer. Hells, Garreg Mach wasn’t even part of the prestigious Sothis Group of universities, but rather some small, local institution. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ornately decorated envelope. “As if you care, there’s the invitation,” he slammed said invitation down on the table. “And I would hope you will at least contact me before the date so you can learn a little more about his life rather than just his title or his paycheque. And,” Linhardt started, knowing he was setting the final straw, “what kind of person I choose to sleep with in the bedroom.”

He stormed out of his childhood home so filled with the energy of a pent up rage finally let loose that his hands were shaking the entire trip back to his own place. He went straight to the apartment he shared with his fiancé and curled up in their bed, uncharacteristically unable to sleep. It wasn’t until after Byleth had returned from teaching, found him in the bedroom, and held him tight enough to feel his heartbeat that Linhardt was able to slowly relax and let sleep find him.

Suffice to say, his parents never contacted him.

Nor did they learn what a wonderful man Byleth Eisner was.

And, of course, they did not come to the ceremony.

* * *

Because of this, Linhardt was ready to throw away his past with his parents. But with the love of his life by his side, being able to take a new last name was a convenient perk.

_ Linhardt Eisner… that has such a nice ring to it… _

“—llo? Lin? Linny? Earth to Linhardt!” Caspar spun Linhardt back around to face him and crouched down to meet his eyes. “You there, buddy?”

Linhardt shook his head a little bit to get out of that daydream down unpleasant-memory lane. “Yes. Thank you for the wake-up call, and for making sure that the whole office knows I’m still internally on vacation.”

“My pleasure,” Caspar threw the phone back, and gave a slightly-too-strong pat on the shoulder. “I’ll drop by the requisition form for some new business cards for you later today.”

“Ugh,” Linhardt whined, “that sounds like a nuisance. Can’t I just at least keep using my old ones until I run out? And just not get new ones?”

“No can do, buddy. I also got Bern to change your email address— but don’t worry, your old one will forward to your new account. And how about if I fill out the form for you? Just need you to sign it then? That won’t be too much work, right,” Caspar offered hopefully.

“Fine. Whatever. Just bring it by when we’re about to head out for lunch,” Linhardt acquiesced. “Now, please, can I start my work?”

“Sure thing, buddy!” Caspar left Linhardt in relative peace.

Leaning once more back in his chair, Linhardt sighed happily.  _ Linhardt… Eisner… _ he thought to himself once more, looking at a photo of himself and his husband set up beside his workstation.  _ I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that. But it is so wonderful. So peaceful. So… sleepy… _

His eyes drooped slowly. The exhaustion of a lengthy morning conversation with Caspar had taken its toll on his energy levels.

_ Oh no… _ he suddenly realized, sitting up straight in his chair with panic and alarm.  _ This means I will need to replace my ID cards. Why is this so much work.... _

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired from a post by AWDEKO on Twitter:
> 
> AWDEKO: linhardt being so quick to give up his title as heir of the house of hevring in most endings/routes makes me think he’d probably take on byleth’s surname without hesitation
> 
> SigmaJump: Except probably for anything printed. Just because he'd be too lazy to bother updating those. XD  
> Like in a modern AU: "Ehhh, I *could* get new business cards, or ID... but... eh... I'll just wait until these run out... So much effort involved..."
> 
> AWDEKO: omg that’s totally him iabdknf WOULD HE EVEN BOTHER HAVING BUSINESS CARDS he probably doesn’t want anyone having any business with him. he’s the guy that refuses to get facebook despite everyone (caspar, ferdie, and dorothea) nagging him to make one
> 
> SigmaJump: Or he has a Facebook. His profile pic is the last cat pic in his camera roll when he was forced to make it. And the cover photo is the exact same picture, badly default-cropped.  
> And he only has "FB friends" because one day Caspar commandeered his phone/computer to add everyone.


End file.
